Consequences of Waterloo
by AgiVega
Summary: Sequel to Her Captain. Aviators breed themselves as much as their dragons: once their dragon turns ten years old, captains might be asked to provide one or two officers for the Corps. Well, Temeraire has recently turned ten...
1. The Letter

**A/N: **I would like to say thanks to everyone who reviewed my one-shot, "Her Captain". You encouraged me to write a longer Laurence/Emily fanfic, so here it is. :) This story can be considered as a sequel to "Her Captain", but I can assure you that you will perfectly understand it even if you have not read that one.

If you read carefully, you might discover a tribute to Harry Potter: The Half-Blood Prince. Can you find it?

Warning: this fic might cause serious damage to your brain cells or your computer screen, should you be eating or drinking while you read it.

**Disclaimer:** all yours, Miss Novik. I'm just borrowing your brilliant characters.

**Big thanks to my beta and friend Michael for his help!**

**CONSEQUENCES OF WATERLOO  
**

**Chapter 1**

**The Letter**

_Covert near Sydney, 5__th__ November, 1815_

The air in the dining room was heavy with sweat mixed with the delicious smell of roast beef and the usual murmur of aviators; clinks of goblets and jingles of forks serving as background music to their hushed and not-so-hushed discussions. Laurence tried not to listen in, and was delighted to find he had managed to learn how to shut his ears to comments he did not want to hear. Comments about him, sitting at the very end of the long table, among aviators of lowest ranks. Sometimes he thought they would some day get tired of disparaging him, but after all these years he still was Public Enemy Number One, target of nasty remarks and haughty glances.

He no longer cared. As long as he had Temeraire and Allen and Roland, all of whom remained wholly faithful to him, he had no reason to complain. He still had more than a traitor could ever hope for.

Laurence bent as close to his plate as possible, hoping that the smell of his meal would quench the stench of body odours, including his own, but to no avail. He had spent seven years on Terra Australis, but still had not got used to the way all aviators smelled by the end of the day. He reminded himself that sailors too tended to stink, but at least in his naval days _he_ had been careful not to belong to the smelly ones. Here, in Australia, it was impossible not to smell. The heat was nearly unbearable, the sun shone mercilessly upon those unfortunate enough to live here, and most were so tired by the evening, returning from their days of clearing land, that they did not even bother to go up to their rooms to wash before they fell onto their chairs in the dining room. And Laurence could not even blame them, as he himself had long given up most habits of a British nobleman.

Someone flopped down on a chair on his right, but he did not look up from his plate – it was probably just a runner or an ensign, one of those pesky little rascals who took the most delight in mocking him. He would naturally never stoop so low as to take revenge on an ill-behaved child who did not even belong to his crew, but he could not help but grin as he recalled the memory of Roland punching an ensign, an older and taller ensign than her, for jeering at her captain. Thankfully it had happened out in the forests with not many people around, and the male ensign had been so ashamed of being beaten by a short female that he kept his humiliation a secret. Laurence did not dare imagine what would have happened to Emily, still an ensign back then, had the fight happened in a crowded place. The last thing he would have liked to see was her being flogged for breaching the rules.

"Not bad, eh, sir?" the person on his right asked, making Laurence finally look up. It was Roland, pointing at her own plate. "It is not often we get to eat something as decent as this…"

"True," Laurence nodded, suddenly feeling self-conscious in his sweaty clothes – Roland had obviously taken her time to go upstairs and change. Years ago it would have been him insisting on a wash and a change of clothes before dinner, giving his appearance utmost attention, and it would have been Roland dirtying herself and shrugging off a rebuke. Tonight, however, she looked almost ladylike – as much as one could look ladylike in a male uniform. But he had to give it to her – she had turned into a rather pretty young woman, and not even her male uniform could conceal her feminine curves. How old was she again? Twenty? Twenty one?

He must have been looking at her rather oddly, because she arched an eyebrow at him questioningly. Laurence forced himself to look away.

At that moment a young captain, Jacobs, if Laurence recalled his name well, burst into the dining room, swinging a crumpled letter in the hand, and yelling at the top of his lungs: "We have won! Napoleon surrendered at Waterloo! The war is over! Just got this letter from Admiral Roland!"

A long, silent second followed, then, as though a bomb had exploded in the room, everyone started shouting at once.

"Did you hear that, sir? We have won! We have won!" squealed Emily, and the next instant her lips were on his, her arms around his neck, and she kissed him hard and long until both of them ran out of breath. Laurence did not even try to entangle himself from her embrace, he was practically paralysed by Roland's boldness.

"_We have won!" _

"_The frogs are routed!"_

"_Peace, at last!"_

"_Long live the King!"_

Once Emily pulled back, a blush on her face and a spark of joy in her eyes, murmuring a hushed "Beg your pardon, sir, I was just so happy", Laurence found his cheeks burning, and quickly scanned the dining room to check if anyone had seen them. Thankfully the news of the marvellous victory made the aviators deaf and blind to anything else – there were still hats in the air, showering on the ecstatic Brits, and Captain Jacobs was pushed onto the tabletop so that he could read out Admiral Roland's letter to everyone's delight. The letter was dated 1st July, 1815, so it had taken four months to reach them, and yet they rejoiced as though Napoleon's defeat had been just yesterday.

"_The Seventh Coalition…the Anglo-Allied Army…"_

"… _under the command of Duke of Wellington and Gebhard von Blücher of Prussia…"_

"_Twenty-two thousand people and fifty-one dragons on our side killed or wounded…"_

"_Napoleon lost forty-seven thousand people and eighty-five dragons…"_

"…_finally banished to St. Helena…"_

The room was abuzz with excited comments for a long time, and since after news of such magnitude no one cared to mock a stripped-of-rank captain, Laurence for once was in no hurry to leave the dining table – he wanted to hear everything there was to learn about Napoleon's defeat. However, as seconds grew into minutes, he got more and more annoyed to realise that he could not pay as much attention to the gory details as he would have liked to, as his thoughts rebelliously wandered from the battlefield of Waterloo to a certain female lieutenant sitting right next to him.

It was past ten when he finally rose from the table, excused himself from Emily, trying not to blush as he did so, and headed for the exit to look for Temeraire. The dragon would surely be excited to learn the news, and would probably be hurt if he learned them from someone else in the morning, not his captain tonight. However, as he was about to leave the building, Jacobs called after him.

"Hey, Laurence! You too have a letter! From the Admiral no less!"

Laurence looked politely puzzled as he took the carefully sealed envelope from Captain Jacobs, and try and he might, this time he did not manage to employ his 'selective hearing'.

"_The Admiral, still sending messages to Mr. Traitor here?"_

"_Oh, they used to be rather… friendly to each other back in England, did you not know?"_

"_And apparently the daughter takes after the mother, doesn't she?"_

Laurence took the first two remarks with relative coolness, but the third one definitely struck home. His anger was boiling, bubbling inside, threatening to spill… His hands were already clenched into fists, his teeth gritted… And then his eyes met Emily's across the room; she was silently pleading him to hold back. She must have heard everything – the comments about her captain and her mother being 'friendly', and the last one that obviously meant that their involuntary display of affection had not gone entirely unnoticed.

Had Emily's eyes not been beseeching him to control his temper, he would have hit the man, rules be damned. But her eyes made him realise that fighting would only make things worse – it would not only breach the rules of the Corps, but would irrevocably sow the seeds of suspicion. Suspicion, that was completely unfounded.

Laurence took a deep breath to calm himself, shot the whisperers a withering glance, nodded his head towards Jacobs in thanks for the letter, and left the room.

oOo

As he had expected, Temeraire was more than happy to learn about Napoleon's defeat.

"Oh, and I hope Lien was among those eight-five dragons killed..." he said with a bit more than a healthy dose of malice.

Laurence just shook his head with an indulgent smile – he knew better than anyone that Temeraire would never wish for the death of other dragons, that is why they had become traitors in the first place, but Lung Tien Lien was a wholly different matter.

"…but you do not seem exactly happy about the victory," the dragon remarked after a while. "Is something bothering you, Laurence?"

"It is nothing, really, my dear," the man gently patted the dragon's neck. "And I can assure you that I am perfectly happy about the victory. This is the best news I have received in many years."

"But it is _not_ nothing, Laurence," Temeraire said, ignoring his captain's last words. "Even if I cannot see it in the dark, I can feel it in your voice. Something _is_ bothering you. Can I help somehow?"

"I doubt if you can… and I doubt if anything need be done. It was just spontaneous, after all… she did not mean it in the least."

"_She?_ Who are you talking about?"

"Emily," Laurence said with a wistful smile. "You would not believe it, but she just… kissed me."

"Where?"

"By the table."

"No, I mean… _where_?"

"Oh," Laurence blushed, thankful for the darkness engulfing them. "On the lips. But… it was nothing but a spur of the moment thing, I am sure of it. She was just too happy to hear about the victory…"

"And what exactly bothers you? The fact that she kissed you, or that you think she did not really _mean_ the kiss?" the dragon enquired.

"What kind of a question is that, Temeraire?" Laurence snapped, exasperated. "Of course the only reason I am annoyed is that she kissed me before the whole dining room! People will start to… gossip, and such gossips could ruin her reputation."

"In all honesty, I do not think Emily Roland cares much about her reputation. She is like Catherine Harcourt in that respect."

"O God, do not even mention Harcourt," Laurence sighed. "The least I want is for people to think that something… anything… improper happened between Emily and me. She is but a child, after all…"

"I should say a young adult," Temeraire yawned.

"Whatever," his captain waved impatiently. "You had better sleep, tomorrow is going to be another tough day."

"Oh, yes. And Laurence, you had better wash. You smell."

oOo

Laurence usually enjoyed his nice, long, refreshing soaks in the bathtub, and believed he had every right to enjoy them, having spent a small fortune on getting a proper bathtub that counted as a luxury item here, at the back of beyond. Tonight, however, the soak was not a bit refreshing, and although it did manage to ease his stiff muscles a bit, it did not help with his state of mind.

His lips were still tingling from the kiss that Roland had so carelessly given him, and chided himself for being so childish – because it _was_ childish, he had not felt like this since the day he had playfully promised Edith Galman to marry her. She had kissed him then – she being nine, he thirteen – and the kiss had tingled just like this, even hours after it had ended.

There had been women in his life – the young Lieutenant Laurence had probably broken a few hearts in various ports of the globe, but none of those fleeting relationships had meant anything to him, and none of the kisses of those women had made his lips tingle. His heart had, after all, always belonged to Edith Galman.

Then came along Jane Roland, and she definitely meant more to him than any woman save Edith, but her kisses still did not give him a tingling sensation. So why did Emily's?

He shook his head, trying to clear it of disturbing thoughts, but instead of Emily's kiss now another picture flashed into his mind: the smirks on the faces of various captains and lieutenants, their voices as they mocked him about his erstwhile relationship to Admiral Roland… And that was when he realised he had not even read her letter yet.

He still had not got over his surprise at having received a letter from the Admiral, because she had not cared to contact him for four years. The only letter he had received from her in Australia let him know that Iskierka and Temeraire's egg had hatched and the dragonet had the divine wind, but did not possess the ability to breath fire. Laurence had been shocked to find that the dragonet's newly appointed captain, Hezekiah Martin, had decided to call her Gwendolyn. Apparently Martin possessed as little talent for choosing names as his own parents had.

Laurence stood up in the tub and reached for his coat to fish out the envelope from its pocket, then settled back into the tub, careful to open the folded paper by holding only its edges, not to smudge the ink with his wet fingers.

_Laurence,_

Jane had written, without adding any "Captain" or "Mr" or "dear", even though he did not expect to ever hear her utter or see her write down the word "dear" in connection with him again.

_You must be surprised to receive a letter from me, as I have not contacted you for ages, but I can assure you that I have known everything of your accomplishments in Australia. No, you need not suspect me setting spies on you, I should consider such actions to be beneath me. It is Emily who has been rather enthusiastic about informing me of everything happening on your side of the world. I must admit I am most pleased to hear that neither you nor Temeraire have started a revolution, and I strongly discourage you to try it in the future. But I digress._

_The reason why I am writing you is to remind you of a certain discussion between us ten years ago. You might not remember, but I perfectly recall your dumbfounded expression upon hearing that from time to time we feel compelled to not only breed dragons but ourselves as well._

Laurence bit into his lower lip. _Dumbfounded expression, indeed…_ Jane had never been a person of fine words… And what about this whole breeding? Laurence suddenly felt a knot in his stomach and the nicely hot water around him seemed to have cooled by several degrees.

_I also mentioned back then, once your dragon turns ten, you too might be asked to provide a few officers for the Corps. I am not the type to beat around the bush. Laurence, Temeraire has turned ten. It is time for you to consider finding yourself a suitable woman to bear your child. Or children. Now that I think of it, it is better to make it two. Why? I am explaining._

By this time Laurence's right hand holding the letter was shaking so madly that he had to grab the paper with his left as well to make sure he would not let it fall into the water.

_Not beating around the bush_, he allowed himself a snort. No, Jane definitely never did that.

_It so happens that in the battle of Waterloo, our honoured Captain Granby got injured. Not a serious injury, but a rather, how to put it, awkward one. I am afraid he will never be able to give Iskierka a future captain. Upon hearing the news, Iskierka established that if she cannot receive the offspring of Granby as her future captain, then she wants to have yours. _

At this, the letter fell out of Laurence's hands. Thanks to his battle-honed reflexes, only the lower two or three inches of the paper got submerged into the water before he caught it, and as he lifted the paper, the signature "Jane Roland, Admiral of the Air" dissolved into rivulets of dark blue ink.

_Iskierka? Holy heavens,_ he sighed.

_Curious, is it not? For some reason she holds you in rather great esteem. Do not ask me why, she has never been exactly reasonable. _

_To make a long story short, your 'services' are needed by the Corps. After Iskierka had left England to breed with Temeraire, her presence was sorely missed in battles. Even if the war with Napoleon is over, we still cannot risk losing our only firebreather, and we all know how stubborn she is: she would never accept a captain she does not like. We can only hope she will be satisfied with your son or daughter. _

_Please, do not get me wrong: this is not an order, after all, it would be nothing short of sexual exploitation if it were, but take it as a strong recommendation. A very strong one. I do not care how you manage it, Laurence, just make sure that you do. _

_I hope my request will not be taken harshly, and I, along with your fellow aviators in England, wish you a good luck in your endeavours. As I finish this letter, I see Berkley madly winking at me. He knows what I am writing. I believe those winks are not directed at me, so I am forwarding them to you. You know how Berkley is…_

_Yours sincerely,_

Laurence stared at the ugly blotches where Jane's name had been until recently. The water around him felt icy cold, and his whole body was shaking. This could not be happening to him! This could not…

He let the letter fall to the ground, and slipped completely into the nice-smelling foam, then sat up again, spitting and sneezing as water had filled his nostrils. And yet, not even the water managed to clear his mind or wash away his doubts or… just make him wake up from this nightmare.

For it was not a nightmare.

At that moment Laurence felt he would gladly submit himself to another flogging in the court of an African prince, or fight a dozen sea serpents all alone rather than do _this_…

Running his fingers through his dripping, greying blond hair, he felt ashamed. Ashamed, because instead of feeling sorry for poor Granby, he felt sorry for himself. Had Iskierka not wanted him to 'give her a future captain', Admiral Roland might not have forced him to… _breed_. After all, the Admiralty had wanted to get rid of Temeraire by sending him off to Australia, meaning they might not insist on keeping him in military service after his captain's death.

For the second time that evening, Laurence's hands clenched into fists. He had never been so angry at Iskierka before…

_O God, how am I going to do this? And with __**whom**__???_

oOo

**A/N:** review please, and you'll see how Laurence's trials continue… :P


	2. Stubborn Dragon, Stubborn Captain

**A/N:** I've replied to everyone who sent signed reviews, thanks for them, I'm glad you're enjoying the story.

_skeptic7_: since your review was unsigned and you did not provide and e-mail address either, I'm replying to it here. Yes, I can imagine the aviators regarding Laurence as a holy martyr, and some of them surely really do, but not all of them. And in this story mostly those are mentioned who do not. As for you not liking L/E: I do see your point. So will Laurence, as he will be just as upset by the idea of having to consider Emily for 'the task' as you are. But I hope I manage to pull it off in a way that eventually justifies L/E. And after all, just think of Edmond Dantes and Haidee at the end of The Count of Monte Cristo (book version!), or Henry Higgins and Eliza Doolittle: the man is in both cases at least 20 years older than the woman, and is also a teacher and a semi-father figure to her, and yet they fall for each other. Why couldn't Laurence and Emily too? :)

Also thanks to _Sera _and_ Septempopuli_ for the review_._

**Chapter 2**

**Stubborn Dragon, Stubborn Captain**

Laurence could not sleep a wink that night, but kept tossing and turning in his bed till dawn, and when he finally drifted off, nightmares woke him after mere minutes. Nightmares of Jane Roland glowering at him for not having managed to give officers to the Corps… and nightmares of another nature with Iskierka starring in them. The female dragon in his dreams had a tiny, blond baby boy sitting on her neck in a nappy, wearing the bottle-green hat of a captain and wailing at the top of his lungs. What nonsense!

With a sigh of resignation, Laurence sat up and rubbed his eyes in the futile hope of banishing drowsiness. He knew it was going to be a long and tiring day, and he would be needing all his willpower to not fall off Temeraire's back after a whole night of sleep-deprivation.

He washed his face in the basin and pulled on his clothes, each of his movements ridiculously slow. His stomach also felt upset, but he was sure it had nothing to do with yesterday evening's roast beef but Admiral Roland's preposterous 'request'. The request that was more of an order, and not even a sugar-coated one. Then again, Jane had never been the type to sugar-coat things.

With his madly churning stomach, Laurence did not feel like having breakfast at all, but he knew he would need every bit of his strength now that his body had not been able to refresh itself overnight. He could not deprive himself of food as well.

Ten minutes later he was sitting at the breakfast table, picking at his food and trying to ignore the happy buzz of people around him. The news of the Waterloo victory was still too fresh and Laurence was sure his fellow aviators would keep talking about it for weeks to come without getting bored of it. Forcing himself to swallow a smaller hunk of cheese, he bitterly thought that he no longer could share the others' joy of the victory. After all, it was Waterloo, or, to be precise, Granby's injury at Waterloo that landed him in this hopeless situation.

Someone laughed nearby, her voice like the jingling of bells, making Laurence look up to see a twenty-something-year-old signal-ensign by the name of Elisabeth Johnson. Wide hips, large bosom, ideal for childbirth and breastfeeding… He found himself sizing her up until she caught his eyes and laughter froze on her lips. Laurence averted his glance, pretending to be highly interested in his breakfast. No, based on the cold, piercing look directed at him, Johnson definitely was not the woman for 'the task'.

His eyes surreptitiously flitted across the room and caught sight of several other females – here twenty-five-year-old Lieutenant Jessica Beckett was flirting with Captain Bowles; there forty-three-year-old Captain Helena Parker strode up to her midwingman; at the other end of the table Lieutenant Kate McKenzie, in her early thirties, was stuffing her face with great enthusiasm. Beckett – already taken. Parker – too old. McKenzie – too fat. Then again, he was a convicted traitor, Laurence reminded himself. It was not like he was in any position to be choosy.

Giving up on trying to force-feed himself, he left the building, and a panting Emily Roland nearly ran into him at the door.

"Beg your pardon, sir, I fear I have overslept," she mumbled, and hurried past him into the dining room. He turned after her and followed her with his eyes until she sat down. Only when a young runner tried to get into the building did Laurence step aside from the doorframe and shake his head in disbelief. How long had he stood there, staring at his lieutenant like an idiot?

"Heavens, what am I doing?" he muttered and hurried down the stairs, heading for the grounds where he hoped to find Temeraire alone. He knew he would die of shame if people found out about his predicament, but he could and _should_ tell Temeraire. He could not keep it to himself any longer, or he would surely go mad… and if someone was capable of understanding his despair, it was Temeraire.

To his utter disappointment he found the dragon already wearing his harness, members of the ground crew climbing all over him, preparing him for the day's work.

Laurence forced a smile on his face and greeted both Temeraire and his crew, hoping beyond hope that at least his crewmen did not notice the forced quality of his smile. The dragon naturally did – they had known each other nearly for eleven years and did not even need words to see if the other was suffering. "Later," Laurence mouthed to Temeraire at seeing the dragon's worried stare.

"We are ready, sir," announced Marian Digby, a distant relation of Laurence's late officer. Marian was part of the ground crew and had a real skill for mending harnesses. And she liked him. More than liked him. Every smile, every gesture had suggested she was rather fond of her captain. She was even the right age, twenty-eight or twenty-nine, to Laurence's best knowledge. If only she were not one of the ugliest females he had ever set eyes upon!

"Thank you, Mr. Digby," he said.

The woman smiled, revealing a set of huge front teeth under her strong, aquiline nose.

_Still too choosy,_ he chided himself. _Still too proud. Put aside your pride, William, or you shall never succeed…_

But did he really want to succeed? With Marian Digby here?

He felt shame wash over him – Marian was a kind-hearted and sharp-witted woman who fancied him. He had no right to think wrong of her just because she was not pretty…

He cleared his throat. "Gentlemen, we are only waiting for Lieutenant Roland, if I am not mistaken. Be ready to take off any minute."

As he turned away from the crew and Temeraire, pretending to scan the grounds for any sign of Roland, he made his decision. He would ask Digby tonight and if she was ready to oblige him, he could only hope they would have sons. For God help any daughter of his who took after Marian…

oOo

It was past noon when Laurence finally gave his crew half an hour of lunch break. As they sought shelter under the trees from the merciless sunrays and unfolded their little bundles of bread and dried meat, Laurence decided to use the opportunity to take Temeraire for a flight.

A few miles away they descended next to a half-dried pond.

"Is it still the kiss, Laurence?" the dragon asked before his captain could even speak up.

"What?"

"Is it still Emily's kiss that is bothering you so?"

"Oh," the captain sighed. "If only it were… No, my dear… I am afraid things have got much more complicated since we last talked. I have received a letter from Admiral Roland…" With shaking hands, he tugged a rather crumpled and smudged sheet of paper out of his breast pocket, and, trying to make his voice tremble as little as possible, read it out to Temeraire.

"Oh," the dragon said after a while. "This is most embarrassing."

"It could not be more embarrassing," Laurence said dejectedly.

"But Laurence, try to look at the bright side of it!"

"Bright side?" The man arched an eyebrow at his dragon. "What bright side? I see none."

"Oh, but there is!" Temeraire replied enthusiastically. "If you complete the Admiral's orders, you too will be a father, like me! And besides, it is not at all unpleasant… I mean, siring." He licked his lips with a wistful expression. "I usually enjoyed it. Even with Iskierka, although she talked the entire time about battles and prizes and setting things on fire… it can put you off a bit, but… eventually we managed an egg. Sometimes I wish I could see Gwendolyn at least once…"

Laurence patted Temeraire's neck. "Probably you shall, some day. You will live around two hundred years… that is a long time."

"Do you think Martin is treating her well?"

"I am sure he is. Martin is a good man…"

"…only he refused to even talk to us during Napoleon's invasion of England," Temeraire reminded him in a low voice. "I was so mad at him…"

"You had no right to be mad… and he had every right not to talk to us… I am sure your daughter is in good hands with him."

Temeraire nodded, but did not seem very convinced. "Have you thought of someone yet, Laurence?"

The man made a grimace. "I have. I thought of Marian Digby."

"What?" Temeraire roared. "You cannot be serious!"

"Why not? She is a perfectly respectable woman."

"You mean respectable as she has never had a wooer because she is ugly?"

Laurence rolled his eyes. "A gentleman does not call a lady ugly. Uh… facially handicapped, perhaps..."

Now Temeraire was laughing so hard his great dark blue eyes seemed to water.

"I do not understand what you find so funny," Laurence gave his dragon a scowl. "My predicament is difficult enough without you laughing at me."

"Forgive me, Laurence," Temeraire nudged him gently with his nose. "I did not mean to be impolite, but pray tell… can you not find someone else… someone you actually _like_?"

"Why would I need someone I like…? It is just a physical act, after all, no emotions need be involved," the man said, and could barely believe his own words. As though it were someone else using his vocal cords, someone else thinking with his mind… Captain William Laurence, son of Lord Allendale, adoptive son of the Chinese emperor, would never talk like that. A jaded convict, banished far from his home and his loved ones, definitely would.

And Laurence had not realised just how jaded he had become. Not until now.

With a sigh, he dropped himself on the ground, propping his back against Temeraire's side. "I am sorry, my dear. I do not know what I am talking about…"

"No need to apologise, Laurence. I knew you did not mean it. And you should not, either. Breeding without emotions is just… wrong. I remember what it was like to mate with dozens of female dragons in the breeding grounds of Pen Y Fan… I did not mind much at first, but after the umpteenth… I had enough. They did not interest me, I did not like them at all… I am glad I did not manage to give them an egg…"

"But you were happy to hear about Gwendolyn's existence. Does it mean you have grown to like Iskierka?" Laurence grinned up at Temeraire.

"Perhaps," the dragon started absentmindedly drawing symbols in the dirt – they might have been Chinese letters or just some random pattern, Laurence did not know. "I think. A bit. But she is still very annoying."

"Yes, she is," Laurence sighed. "I cannot fathom how she could have got the idea of wanting _me_ as the father for her future captain…"

"As the Admiral wrote, she is not very reasonable. But at least you can be happy you are still capable of it," Temeraire reminded him. "Granby is not."

Laurence snorted. "I almost wish I were in his place… although I am not sure his situation could be less embarrassing than mine…"

The dragon chuckled a bit. "I am sure it could be just as embarrassing, if not more so. Poor Granby."

"Yes…" the man managed a vague smile. "Poor Granby." _And poor me…_

"But Laurence… does it really not bother you that your mate… if Digby agrees at all to be your mate… would not be exactly attractive? I used to have problems with female dragons I did not find attractive… it was hard to… get excited."

Laurence wrinkled his nose. "Well… we could snuff out the candles, and in the dark… I could imagine it is someone else."

"Who, Jane?"

"Er… no…" Laurence said, biting into his lower lip. If he was completely honest with himself, he had not yet given it a thought; the idea of sleeping with Digby and imagining someone else instead had flashed into his mind quite randomly. Now that he allowed himself a few seconds to ponder what he had just said, he felt suddenly dirty. It would not be fair towards Digby to use her body, while he did not want any other part of her, and could not even bring himself to sleep with her with candles lit. It was very un-gentleman-like to even consider such a possibility… then again, did he have another choice?

No, he tried to persuade himself. The Admiral had left him no choice. '_I do not care how you manage it, just make sure that you do.' _Try as he might, he could not think of a more suitable woman than Marian Digby. She was well-natured, helpful and most importantly, she was attracted to him. She would surely be happy to help him, would she not? And once she got pregnant, he would do the gentlemanly thing and marry her. That would be a satisfactory compensation to 'using' her, would it not?

Laurence heaved a sigh. His conscience was far from good, but if he were honest with Marian and she still agreed to help him, he could banish all pangs of remorse. Yes, complete honesty was the only way. Well… complete honesty perhaps did not need to involve admitting that he would be thinking of someone else in the dark... But Digby was a clever woman. She would surely guess why he snuffed out the lights. She was also a pragmatic person and probably would not feel hurt at all by the blown out candles, knowing she was not exactly pleasant to look at.

"Who then…?" Temeraire enquired.

Really, who then? Laurence was at a loss. Who on earth could he imagine while being with Marian? Surely not Jane… Laurence had not thought of Jane as a 'woman' for years. Now she was 'merely' the Admiral for him.

He closed his eyes, trying to picture Edith Galman. Her delicate features, her honey-coloured hair… but he simply could not imagine her in any way that could excite him. He had never seen her in a state of undress, and for some reason could not even bring himself to try to imagine her like that. Edith had always been the unattainable marble goddess, beautiful but cold, and he simply could not picture the elegant clothes disappear from that marble body. With a frown, he opened his eyes. He had barely thought of Edith for years, and his only thoughts of her had been ones of remorse and pity for the young widow. There had not been thoughts of love in connection with her. Not anymore.

Involuntarily, the image of Emily Roland slipped into his mind – her carefree smile, her fighting prowess, her slightly sarcastic humour, her feminine curves barely hid by her male uniform… and her kiss…

Laurence blushed and pulled up his legs to encircle them with his arms. Temeraire need not notice how excited he had become. _Deep breath… and forget about her! _

"Would you not like to dip into the pond to cool down a bit?" Temeraire suggested. "You look extremely red, I am assuming it must be the extraordinary heat, it is not good for you." When Laurence shook his head, the dragon continued, "and what about Emily, huh? Would she not be a better choice than Digby? She likes you just as much as Digby does, and let us admit, she does look much better."

The captain gave his dragon a quizzical look. "What do you mean she likes me just as much as Digby?"

"I am just saying what I am seeing," Temeraire replied matter-of-factly.

"If you mean that kiss… I am sure if someone else had been sitting next to her yesterday, she would have kissed that someone else."

"I am not sure of it," Temeraire shook his head. "No, not in the least. She likes you. Probably even loves you."

"You must be imagining things," Laurence waved impatiently, trying to sound reprimanding, but could not help but feel a wave of hope wash over him. Could it be true that Roland… truly liked him?

"Well… I _might_ be imagining things, but pray tell, did she not want to stay with you when everyone else abandoned you?"

"That does not mean she likes me… that way," the man said, and despite his will to dissuade himself of even considering that Temeraire might be right, a scene eight years ago appeared before his eyes. _'I should prefer to stay, sir'_, Emily had said with her chin put out, her expression as serious as one could be at the age of thirteen. But had that faithfulness not only been meant for her captain whom she looked up to? Could it have been meant for the man inside the captain's uniform?

Laurence nervously ran his fingers through his hair. How could he even consider Emily for 'the task'? She was the Admiral's daughter, for heaven's sake! Forbidden fruit!

'_I do not care how you manage it, just make sure that you do.' _

Did this order not translate as '_I do not care whom you do it with, just be sure that you do'_?

"O God," he muttered. Until yesterday evening he had not even thought of Emily as a woman… well, of course he _had_ thought of her as a _female_, a female he had to protect both physically and morally, but that female in his mind had always been a child. A little girl. And yesterday she kissed him, sending him down the path of dirty thoughts and angry blushes. That kiss forced him to realise that she had grown up. Yes, the mere thought of her had minutes ago made all his blood rush into a certain part of his body, meaning he did think of her as a woman now. An exciting, attractive woman. But did he feel more than that for her? More than just excitement?

"Even if you _were_ right and she indeed liked me," he spoke up, "I would still feel ashamed to think I am just physically drawn to her. She deserves better than that… she deserves to be loved."

"And Marian?" Temeraire countered. "Does she not deserve to be loved?"

Laurence made a face. His dragon usually had a point. "Of course she does… just… not by me."

"Because your heart is already taken. By Emily."

"It is not, I do not love her!" Laurence snapped, jumping to his feet. At the shocked expression of Temeraire, his shoulders sagged. "Of course I _do_ love her… she is a perfectly loveable person… But I just love her as my neighbour… the Ten Commandments expect you to love your neighbour as yourself, so…"

Temeraire gave his captain a dubious look. "I beg you, Laurence, do not try to convince me that you love Emily the same way you love Tharkay or Berkley or Allen…"

The man shook his head dejectedly. "Of course not… Emily has always meant more… but only because she is a girl. I could not help being protective of her. I… I used to feel a bit like her father… no wonder my own father believed her to be my natural-born child…"

"Did he?" Temeraire's eyes widened. "You never told me that!"

Laurence's cheeks turned red once again. "It was quite embarrassing. But that is just another reason why I cannot even consider her as the mother of my child! She could be _my _child!"

"But she is not."

"No, of course not, but… she is so young. I am too old for her."

"Not old enough to not feel certain urges when thinking of her," the dragon replied with an air of innocence.

Laurence hid his face in his palms. So Temeraire had noticed. Then again, what did his over-inquisitive, know-it-all dragon not notice?

"All right, all right," he held up his hands in surrender. "I _might_, just might love her more than I love my average neighbour... But she is still the Admiral's daughter! Jane would never let her only child get involved with the likes of me… a convicted traitor!"

"The Admiral can give her subordinates orders regarding their military service, but not their private life," Temeraire reminded his captain.

"But Jane is _her mother_!"

"Not even a mother can give her daughter orders for her private life once the daughter has become legally an adult, and…" Temeraire continued drawing mysterious symbols into the dirt, "I happen to know that Emily had her twenty-first birthday last week. She is an adult. No parent to tell her what to do in her free time, like… at night."

Laurence slapped his forehead. He simply could not believe his ears. "Temeraire, are you aware you are practically trying to set me up with my lieutenant?"

"Yes, Laurence. I am perfectly aware of that. And why would it be worse to set you up with your lieutenant than with a member of your ground crew?"

"Point taken," Laurence sighed. "But still… Emily is not only too young for me, not only is she the Admiral's daughter, but she has a bright career before her! I do not have the right to ruin all that!"

Temeraire let out a sound of indignation. "I doubt Excidium would mind if Emily happened to give you a few children."

"Excidium probably would not… but other men… men she might like later in her life… _would_ mind. Poor Marian Digby is indeed too hideous to ever hope for requited love, but Emily… she would later regret tainting herself with me."

"I doubt if she would regard it as tainting herself… but we cannot be sure," the dragon said wisely. "Shall I ask her?"

"Wha… NO!" Laurence exclaimed, turning redder than the setting sun. "Do not even think of it! Heavens, Temeraire…!" He took a few long, calming breaths. "My decision is final. Tonight, after dinner, I shall ask Marian. And pray do not try to dissuade me. Come, let us return to the others."

oOo

**A/N:** so, will Laurence go to Digby? Find out from the next chapter! Until then, please be so kind and leave a review. :)


	3. Temeraire the Matchmaker

**A/N: **once again thanks to everyone who reviewed chapter 2! I replied to the signed ones.

The unsigned ones:

_skeptic7_: why would Laurence despise people with honourable scars like Jane? He used to like Jane… a lot, I think (though I never thought he was in love with her). The reason why he isn't trying to find someone to marry him is that he doesn't think there _is_ anyone who would be willing to marry a traitor – save Marian Digby, of course, but he only wants to marry her _if_ she gets pregnant. Yes, I know that is not exactly honourable, but who can blame him for not wanting to bind himself for ever to a woman whom he doesn't love and who might not even be able to give him a child? For all we know, she could be barren, we don't know if she is nor not. I can imagine Laurence marrying Digby, trying for a child for years in vain, and when she turns out to be barren, I see the poor guy banging his head into the wall.

_brainless1_ (you have apparently disabled private messaging, so…): no, I did not create Marian to insult her, and you will see that she will not be insulted at all. :)

**Chapter 3**

**Temeraire the Matchmaker**

It was not often that Temeraire thought his captain had lost his mind, but today he could not think otherwise. Why would Laurence willingly ruin his own life with a woman who practically repelled him when he could get another who would make him perfectly happy both physically and emotionally?

Humans tended to be so lacking in sense…

Of course, Temeraire understood that Laurence did not want to ruin Emily's reputation, whereas ruining Marian's would not be such a catastrophe, as there could hardly be any other man who would want her… Digby could even call herself fortunate for the attention she would be getting from Laurence – the poor thing had surely long given up on ever getting attentions from a male. Laurence was aware of this, and therefore thought that getting Digby pregnant would not be such great a sin as landing Emily in a similar situation. Which only strengthened Temeraire's belief that Laurence indeed did care for Emily. A lot.

And that meant if he did not want his captain to make a serious mistake, he had to take things into his own claws. Laurence had asked, no, beseeched him not to talk to Emily about the letter's contents, but Temeraire had not given his word that he would not.

He was going to do what needed to be done and Laurence would be grateful to him later.

Temeraire devised a plan during their short flight from the half dried-up pond back to the crew. Before they descended to pick up the crew and continue working, he was careful to mention to Laurence, "By the way, if you want to win Digby, make sure you go and bath _before _dinner tonight."

Laurence only grunted his agreement, and they talked no more of it for the rest of the day.

oOo

Now it was evening already, and as soon as they landed in the covert grounds, Laurence bounded off to have a bath, oblivious to the fact that his strings were being pulled by an ingenious puppeteer, his own Celestial.

"Hey, Emily," Temeraire called after the girl as she wanted to leave for the building. "May I have a word? Without the others around?" He gave his ground crew a sharp look.

"Of course," Emily shrugged as the members of the ground crew dispersed.

"Come, let us go somewhere quieter," the dragon led the unknowing girl to a thicket of bushes at the edge of the dragon grounds. "So, Emily," he lowered his voice as much as possible, "I must admit I am being disobedient to Laurence, as he forbade me to talk to you about this, but I am doing it with his best interests in mind."

The girl's eyebrows shot up, almost disappearing behind her sand-coloured fringe. "He forbade you to talk to me about _what_?"

The dragon cleared his throat to sound as solemn and official as possible. "Yesterday evening Laurence received a letter from your mother. She let him know that Captain Granby got a rather embarrassing injury which rendered him unable to sire."

"What?" Emily half-choked, half-laughed. "Is this some kind of a joke?"

"I can assure you it is not. Granby, the poor thing, has become a eunuch. Quite a funny word, is it not? I have learned it from Iskierka, she had heard a lot about eunuchs while developing inside the egg in the harem… And it is exactly Iskierka who has made things so very difficult for poor Laurence..."

Emily blinked, clearly not yet able to make the connection between Granby's injury and the letter from her mother.

"You know how she is… completely mad, and even more recalcitrant. She took it into her head that if she cannot have Granby's offspring as her future captain, she wants to have Laurence's. So your mother ordered Laurence to breed."

Emily let out a sound that was a mixture of a chortle and a hiss of disbelief. "Well… if I think it over, it _is_ time for him. You are nearly eleven years old…"

"Yes, the Admiral mentioned that too, and asked Laurence to provide two officers for the Corps. One for me and one for Iskierka."

Now Emily no longer tried to hold back her laughter. "I can imagine his face… poor Laurence…"

"Yes, very awkward, is it not? To make a long story short, Laurence told me today he was going to ask Marian Digby."

"What?" Emily's sharp intake of breath was enough to make Temeraire grin with satisfaction.

"You heard it well enough. He is going to sacrifice himself on the altar of duty and take a mate he does not like in the least. How terrible is that?"

"Very," Emily said quietly. "But I do not understand why you are telling me this…"

"I thought you might be interested in stopping him."

"I?" Her eyes widened. "How?"

"By letting him know that you would be much better for the task than Digby."

The girl's cheeks flushed. "How could I do that? He would not notice me for a woman if I were dancing in front of him naked!"

"Oh, you should probably try that, he might like it."

"Temeraire!"

A long silence ensued, girl and dragon looking into each other's eyes. It was Emily who finally broke the silence. "I have been under his nose for eleven years, and he has not so much as looked at me!"

"Because you used to be a child and he did not think it proper. But you have grown up. And he has noticed that, believe me."

Surprise and hope sparkled in Emily's eyes. "Why, has he told you anything?"

"Well…" Temeraire cut back a victorious laugh, "he did tell me about that kiss… and he did seem to be rather excited about it."

Emily ran her fingers through her sandy locks and shook her head in disbelief. "But he did not even seem moved by the kiss… Of course, he looked shocked for a few seconds after I released him, but that moment passed and for the rest of the evening he did not even look my direction!"

"Pretence, pretence… believe me when I tell you that he was very deeply moved by the kiss and regretted to think that you merely gave it to him because you were so happy with the news of Waterloo. He even said you would have kissed any other male if you had been sitting next to someone else. But you would not have… would you?"

Emily bit into her lower lip and once again shook her head. "I would never… I have never loved another."

Temeraire curled around Emily and pulled her gently to himself – something he had never done with anyone else but Laurence. Now that the girl's trembling body was pressed to his neck, he almost felt ashamed to remember how jealous he had felt when, ten years earlier, Laurence had said he might one day get married. Back then Temeraire had not been able to even think of sharing Laurence's affections with anyone else. But Emily truly loved their captain. These two deserved to be happy… And Temeraire was sure he would still get enough love from Laurence to not feel overly jealous. He loved his captain enough to want the best for him, and Emily was undoubtedly the best.

"You have loved him for quite a while, have you not?"

Emily looked up and sniffed, wiping a few tears from the corners of her eyes. "Yes," she said with a faint smile. "I have."

"And would you be willing to help him? Be his mate?"

The girl entangled herself from the dragon's 'embrace' and put her chin out. "Probably I would, if only _he_ asked me to. I have been pining for him too long without him even giving me a second glance… I will not go and humiliate myself further. If he wants me, he should come to me. But as long as he thinks Digby is the one for him, I will not even lift a finger. It is up to him to decide what or whom he wants. And pray do not tell him I said that, I would never live it down!"

This was not exactly the answer Temeraire had been hoping for, then again, he reminded himself, he could not have been hoping for Emily to run and offer her services to Laurence. She had more dignity than that.

Just like Laurence.

But what if their pride, their stupid pride held them back from doing the right thing?

"I understand," he sighed.

"Good. I am off to dinner. Good night, Temeraire."

oOo

The dragon returned to his ground crew to let them take off his harness. Usually he felt much better after the harness had been removed, but tonight it did not really make a difference. Nor did the pair of delicious cows brought to him. He found himself picking at his meal and finally giving most of the second cow to Emeritus, a neighbouring Yellow Reaper.

What could he do? What…? Emily was just as stubborn as Laurence, which thwarted his plan of stopping his captain from going to Digby tonight. But he had to stop Laurence somehow, even if not through Emily!

Well, he might not be able to make his captain and lieutenant try for an 'egg' tonight, but he could still try to make sure his captain and Digby would not.

"Hey, you there," Temeraire called out to a young boy, one of Emeritus' runners. His own crew had long gone to have dinner and apparently so had the crews of the other dragons. Only this little boy was still around, he might have done some mischief for which his captain had given him extra work as a punishment.

"What?" The boy ambled over to him while Emeritus gave him a frown.

"I am sorry, colleague, but I need your runner for a few minutes, I hope you do not mind me borrowing him," Temeraire told his fellow dragon politely.

Emeritus shrugged and the boy blinked up at Temeraire. "What do you want? You cannot just borrow me like that, I belong to Emeritus' crew."

"I can pay you for your services," Temeraire replied.

"Pay?" The boy arched an eyebrow at him. "How much?"

"A lot."

"You do not even have money," the runner pouted. "I heard the dragons in England started getting payment a few years ago, but that is England, not Australia. You here do not get paid."

"Yet," Temeraire said indignantly. "I am sure the Duke of Wellington will keep his word and make sure that sooner or later all British dragons get paid."

"Yeah, sooner or later… but I want my money now, or I shan't help you!"

Temeraire sighed. Youngsters could be so impudent… "You can have one of my talon-sheaths. It is pure gold."

"Is it?" The boy's eyes widened.

"Yes, it is. I got it from the Chinese emperor himself."

"Oh, wow," the boy said, then quickly wiped the expression of awe from his face and arranged his features to look as business-like as possible. "All right, then. What do you want from me?"

"Go into the dining room and keep your eyes on my captain. You know who Marian Digby is, right?"

The boy nodded.

"So, should my captain even take a step towards her, run up to him and tell him I must talk to him, immediately, it is a question of life and death."

"Okay," the young runner shrugged. "Consider it done. And make sure I get that golden talon-sheath tomorrow!"

oOo

Laurence was having a hard time trying not to think of what lay ahead of him. He had quickly bathed, donned his best coat, even shaven for the second time that day which he usually did not, and once he deemed himself presentable, he joined the others at the dinner table. He was aware that some looked at him curiously, as no one at the covert primped themselves for dinner as much as he did now, not to mention that compared to his yesterday evening's sweaty appearance the difference was very conspicuous.

Years ago this attire would have felt completely natural for him, but tonight the stiff-necked shirt and the elegant neckcloth felt stifling, his coat hot and tight. He only hoped he would not be smelly with sweat by the end of the dinner, or all his chances to approach Marian in a dignified way would be lost.

He was thankful that Emily did not decide to sit next to him tonight, but she did not sit too far away, and when he chanced a look at her and her eyes met his, he saw coldness and hurt in them. He did not know what to make of it – why would she be hurt? He had not spoken a single word to her all day and the last time _she_ had told him something was in the morning, when she apologised for running into him at the door. What could he have done that wounded her so?

To hide his confusion, he reached for a bottle of wine, only to put it down without even pouring any of it – perhaps Marian did not like a man whose breath smelled of alcohol… Emily probably would not mind, after all, even her mother used to have a liking for port, but Laurence did not know how Marian would react. That was when he realised that he knew, or supposedly knew much more about Emily's likes and dislikes than about Marian's. And yet he was about to spend the night with the latter.

He caught sight of Marian around the middle of the table, and did not see a glass of wine before her, only water. Apparently he had made the right decision in abandoning alcohol… Emily nearby, however, reached for a bottle of wine with a natural air, filled her glass to the brim and gulped it down in a matter of seconds. Laurence felt beads of sweat form on his brow and an uncomfortable tightness in his pants. How could a woman drinking in such a manly manner turn him on so much?

He quickly diverted his glance, filled his glass with water, almost spilling some of it on the tablecloth, his hands were shaking so much.

Finally the dinner drew to a close, and Laurence was relieved to see Emily leave the table among the first. _It is time_, he took a deep breath, and rose to his feet. Marian Digby had just stood up to leave, but as soon as he took a step towards her, a little boy dashed up to him.

"Sir, Temeraire wants a word with you, sir. He says it is of utmost importance!"

"Right now?" Laurence sighed.

"Yes, sir. He said it was a matter of life and death! Hurry, please!"

This short time was enough for the unsuspecting Marian to leave the building, and Laurence could not help but feel annoyed with his dragon. At the same time worry bubbled up in him: could Temeraire be ill? Had he somehow injured himself?

He caught himself running towards the covert grounds, searching for his dragon in the dim light of dusk.

"Oh, Laurence, you have come," Temeraire greeted him in a chit-chatty tone. "How nice of you."

The man was startled by the dragon's nonchalant voice – he did not sound like an ill or injured specimen. Laurence quickly sized up Temeraire, and as much as he could tell in the almost-darkness, his dragon did not only sound but also looked perfectly healthy. "What on earth has happened?"

"I wanted to talk to you about something very important," Temeraire replied.

"Can it not wait till morning? I could still catch Digby before she withdraws to her room if I went after her right now, but I sadly do not know which one her room is, so…"

"Oh, but that is the whole point of it…"

"What?!" Laurence's eyes widened in shock.

"I beg you to calm down, Laurence. I promise you can give her an egg tomorrow if you still feel like after what I am going to tell you now. But you have to listen to me first."

Feeling slightly betrayed, Laurence crossed his arms and gave his dragon a look he hoped was scornful enough. "All right, out with it."

Temeraire took a deep breath. "I fear you are going to be very mad at me, Laurence…"

"I already am, and I doubt it could get any worse…"

"Oh, be assured that it can," Temeraire replied, too brightly for the seriousness of the situation. "And I would say I am sorry about what I have done, but the truth is that I am not at all sorry. I have done what I felt needed to be done."

"What have you done… besides keeping me from Digby?"

Temeraire tried to look guilty but did not manage. "I have told Emily about the letter."

"WHAT? TEMERAIRE!"

"Shhh! The others are trying to sleep!" Temeraire pointed in southern direction where many dark lumps – dragons curled up for the night – could be seen before the purple-navy curtain of twilight.

"I do not care!" Laurence snapped, barely lowering his voice. "I asked you not to do it and you have deliberately disobeyed my order!"

"You are talking as though you were my owner," the dragon said accusingly.

Laurence grabbed locks of his hair and had to hold back from tearing them. "I did not! I do not…! I… I am sorry, my dear… I just…" He heaved a deep sigh. "It was not an order not to tell her, it was a request from a friend to a friend… and you did not respect my request."

"Laurence…" Temeraire said, his voice wavering. "I said I was not sorry for what I have done, but now I feel sorry… not for what I have done, because I believe I did the right thing, but because you think I no longer respect you as a friend. Laurence… you are still my best friend, and I could never bring myself to hurt you… but when I think you are blindly running into fate's arms, I must intervene. I cannot let you ruin your life, because I love you."

The man kept frowning, but he did not know how long he could keep it up – his facial muscles were already rebelling against the frown, wanting to tuck into a gentle smile. "Why did you do it, then?" he asked finally, his voice barely a whisper.

"Because I wanted to find out if she truly loved you, and Laurence, I have good news. She does. She has loved you for a long, long time…"

"But surely just like her neighbour… or… a father figure…?" Laurence stammered, a surge of hope running through him, wanting to hear the opposite.

"Of course not," Temeraire pulled his captain to himself, curling protectively around him. "She loves you the way I used to love Mei, or, I should say, even more."

"But… I am so old compared to her…" Laurence shook his head. "And I am a traitor… what could she possibly love about me?"

"Well, let me think… your honesty. Your courage. Your uprightness. Your virtue. Your kindness. The same things _I_ love about you, just a bit differently. Do not get me wrong, I love you for these things dearly, I am just not attracted to you the way she is."

"Thank God you are not," Laurence chuckled, patting his dragon's neck. "Did she… did she say anything else? About… you know… the letter?"

"You mean about the possibility of breeding with you?"

Laurence nodded mutely.

"Well, she said she might be willing, but she would not offer. You have to ask her."

The captain kept absentmindedly stroking the dragon's hide. Everything he had just heard sounded surreal. Emily Roland – in love with him? If that was true, she had managed to conceal it pretty well for all these years… And come to think of it, just how long could she have been in love with him? Could Temeraire be right and could Emily have already loved him during the French invasion of England? That was such a long time ago! And yet, when he recalled her face, he seemed to remember not only determination and faith in the eyes of the thirteen-year-old Emily, but also something… warm. Could that be the spark of love? Or was his mind merely playing tricks on him, making him remember things that had not even been there?

He had to find out. It was not that he did not believe Temeraire, for his dragon would never lie to him, it was just that he had to hear it with his own ears… and if he did, he might, just might let himself admit that he felt more for her than just friendliness, more than just respect… more than just physical desire.

"Shall I… shall I ask her tonight?" he mumbled, never having felt so unsure of himself.

"Well, of course, why waste such a handsome attire?" Temeraire replied. "Go to her, right now! What are you still waiting for?"

oOo

Laurence could not remember when he last felt this nervous. Probably only before he and Temeraire went to Loch Laggan to steal the cure and take it over the Channel to the French. But that had been a dark sort of nervousness, with the absolute surety of death afterwards. This was a much nicer kind of nervousness, with the prospect of _happiness_ afterwards, yet still not much easier to cope with.

He ran his hands through his hair, trying to comb his dishevelled locks back into place; straightened his coat, flicked imaginary specks of dirt off the sleeves, and knocked on the door in front of him.

It took several seconds for the door to open – several seconds that was enough to raise a lump in his throat and make his heart race like it had only once before: in the port of Malaga, where the eighteen-year-old Lieutenant Laurence had first physically surrendered to the beauty of a pair of black, Spanish eyes. He could not even recall the name of the woman, something with an 'E'… Esmeralda, Esperanza…? And now he felt like the same eighteen-year-old kid, pining for a girl whose name also started with an 'E'.

The door creaked open, and Laurence blushed upon realising that Emily had apparently just emerged from the bathtub – backlit by the candles from inside, her skin looked still wet, a towel, barely reaching past her thighs wrapped around her, leaving very little to the imagination.

Seeing that it was him, her eyes narrowed and her voice sounded unusually cold when she asked, "Can I help you, sir?"

Laurence realised that he was staring, surely with the same dumbfounded expression that Jane had so eloquently described in her letter. "Er… that depends, Miss Roland. But I think I should come back later, when you are…"

"…dressed?" She gave him an amused look, and her voice sounded less cold all of a sudden. "I believe I am covered enough, and besides, you have seen me wearing less…"

Laurence flushed an even deeper shade of red. "Yes, but you were just eleven or twelve then…"

"And had not even started bleeding yet," she giggled, recalling her own words to him. "I did embarrass you, did I not?"

"Quite," he grinned. "But not more than when you told me that you had actually _started _bleeding…"

"I cannot help it, sir, I love embarrassing you. Like now," she grinned back and motioned him to enter with her right hand while her left was holding the edges of the towel in place.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. There was no going back now. _Out with it!_

"Well… Miss Roland…"

"You have not called me Miss or Mr Roland for years, sir. What have I done to become undeserving of the name 'Emily'?"

"You have done nothing!" he shook his head, desperate to realise he had once again involuntarily hurt her. "It is… it is my fault. I tried to… sound… official here… O God, this is getting more and more awkward… Emily… Temeraire has admitted to me that he told you about the Admiral's letter."

"He has," she replied, her expression somewhere between amused and bashful with a hint of mischief. "And, you are here to…?"

He looked into her eyes, as if pleading her to finish the sentence, but she did not. "You are not going to make this easy for me, are you, Emily?"

"You have never made it easy for me either, sir," she shrugged.

"I think I have not," he hung his head. "But I do not want to beat around the bush. Temeraire said that if I asked you outright, you should contemplate the possibility of… Er… I _am_ beating around the bush, aren't I?" he managed a sour little smile.

"I asked him not to tell you what I said…" she replied, sounding slightly indignant. "Apparently he has decided not to listen to either of us…"

"Apparently he has," Laurence nodded. "But I am glad he has, because this allows us to make things clear. Emily," he straightened himself, folding his hands behind his back, "would you please consider giving me a child or two?"

For a long moment silence hung in the air and no emotion could be seen on the girl's face. As the seconds ticked by, Laurence felt his throat tighten and despair compress his chest – he must just have made a complete fool of himself. Then suddenly her lips tucked into a smile. "I would be honoured, sir." With that she let go of the towel that gracefully dropped onto the floor.

Laurence froze at the sight, cheeks burning worse than ever. "You mean… _right now_?"

oOo

**A/N:** you can find a link to an illustration of this end scene in my ffnet bio – go to its very end, it is there. And should you be interested in more of my Temeraire fanart, just go to my deviantArt gallery (link at the top of my ffnet bio) and click on the "Temeraire fanart" folder on the left. :)

Oh, and be so kind and leave a review!


	4. Task Accomplished

**A/N: **thanks for all the reviews – I have answered all the signed ones, as usual. :)

**Chapter 4**

**Task Accomplished**

"You mean… _right now_?"

"Why? Is that not what you have come for?" Emily raised an eyebrow at her madly blushing captain.

"Uh… yes, but… probably… we should _talk _first…" Laurence muttered, bending down to pick up the towel and holding it out to Emily with his face politely turned away from her.

"All right, sir… we can certainly talk," she replied, and Laurence only chanced a glance at her several seconds later, hoping to find her covered once again. She was, however, not wearing the towel, but a simple white dressing-gown that made her look much coyer than she really was.

"So," she continued, lowering herself on the bed, "what exactly do you wish to talk about, sir? You have asked me a favour, I agreed. I believe it's a bit too early to discuss names or anything…"

Laurence caught himself biting his lower lip. "I… thought we should talk about… _feelings_ first." He pulled up a chair and sat down, facing Emily, but at a respectful distance.

"Feelings?" she echoed his words. "I am assuming Temeraire has told you everything I told him, so I doubt there is much we still have to discuss. You know that I love you. There is not more I could tell you about my feelings... sir."

In the dim candlelight Laurence thought she looked not only chaste, wearing the white dressing-gown, but also very vulnerable, and not only physically but emotionally as well. She had just laid all her cards on the imaginary table and did not even expect him to do so, as she obviously believed he had none. He had to prove her wrong.

"Emily," he slipped a little closer, though did not move his chair, so he was now teetering on the edge of it, "Temeraire has indeed told me that you loved me… but he has also made me realise that you too mean much more to me than just my lieutenant…" He took a deep breath. "I am going to be completely honest with you. I am not sure I am in love with you… _yet_. But I love you a lot as a friend, a comrade in arms, and I do feel drawn to you. This is as close to love as I have got in… many, many years. But I do not want to rush anything… I want to give myself time to learn what exactly I am feeling for you… and for you too, to make me hopelessly enamoured with you. I am sure it will not take long… I already feel so very strongly for you."

Now it was she who was biting her lower lip, her slim fingers playing with the sash of her gown. "Had you… had you not listened to Temeraire and gone to Marian tonight… would you have told _her_ to not rush things?"

He shook his head. "Had I gone to Marian, and had she agreed to help me, I would very likely be in her bed already… But I am here, with you. And I am ready to wait."

"What if _I _don't want to wait?" she whispered. "I have waited long enough, William…"

Some unknown warmth spread in his chest upon hearing his Christian name – he had not heard it for nearly eight years, since his mother had last addressed him. It had a much nicer ring than 'sir', especially coming from Emily.

"…I have waited eight years for you to notice me…"

Laurence reached out and took her hands into his – they felt unnaturally cold despite the heat of the evening. "Eight years? What could you have possibly loved about me eight years ago…? That was when I was sentenced to death for treason..."

Her lips tucked into a sad little smile. "And that was exactly when I realised I loved you. Up till then I had just respected you and thought you looked nice without a shirt, but…"

"I looked nice without a shirt?" he choked.

"Yes…" she shrugged, mischief twinkling in her eyes. "I remember seeing you by a pond in China, washing half-naked… the Chinese were shocked, but I was gaping at you. Dyer had to shake me to make me come to my senses… But really, William… up till your… 'treason', I had respected you and looked up to you and thought you were the best and handsomest captain ever… but it was when I heard what you had done for the dragons that I realised it was not merely a childish sort of adoration. I was so desperate about your sentence that I barely paid attention to my duties… Why do you think I was just fifth lookout on Artemisia's crew? Because her captain thought I was sort of dim-witted, my mind always somewhere else… how could he have known that my mind was with you all the time?"

"Oh, Emily," he slipped off the chair, and kneeling before her, pulled her into a tight embrace. "I never thought… never even hoped someone could love me so ever again…"

"So, someone _did_ love you once," she whispered into his hair.

"A long time ago," he muttered into her shoulder.

"You loved her too, did you not?"

"I did."

Emily paused for a moment, absentmindedly stroking his hair, as though she were afraid of carrying on. Finally she managed to screw up her courage and blurted out: "Do you still love her?"

He pulled back a bit to look into her eyes. "No. I have not, for many years. She broke up our engagement when I became an aviator and she married someone else. I think I would have been sad, had I not been training so hard with Temeraire. I simply had no time to dwell on the loss, and a few months later I found myself cured of her." Laurence pulled the chair closer and sat down again, his hands once again covering Emily's. Her hands were not cold anymore, but pleasantly warm. "Yes, I could say I was cured… but some hollowness remained, and I did not even hope anyone could fill her place in my heart, ever. I tried… tried to lull myself into the belief that your mother could give me what I had lost, but I had known from the beginning that it was false hopes. When she rejected my proposal…"

"Your proposal?" Emily's eyes widened in shock. "I never knew you proposed to her…!"

"I did… half hoping she would refuse," he admitted with a bitter smile. "She and I… we were never meant to be, and I think both of us knew that from the beginning. But after her refusal to marry me, I truly gave up on love. That is why I do not know yet what to make of… _us_. I have forgotten what it was to be loved by a woman and to love her in return. I beg you for time, Emily… just a few weeks… to get used to the thought."

"And what shall we do in those few weeks?" she asked, cocking her head and giving him a rather unabashed stare that almost made him blush again. But just almost.

"Well," he cleared his throat, "I shall woo you properly and propose to you, of course."

"I hope when you propose, you will not be hoping for my refusal…"

"Of course not…" he let out a nervous little laugh. "I would be honoured to have you as my wife, Emily."

At this her eyes seemed to water, but she blinked back the tears, even if they were tears of joy. She was a Roland, after all… she was tougher than to cry. "Are you… not afraid Temeraire would mind us getting married?"

"Had he minded, do you think he would have tried to play matchmaker against our will?"

"I suppose not… But perhaps he only wanted us to make a few babies, to secure future captains for him and Iskierka, and do it without marriage…"

"I would never consent to you having my children without marriage."

"Because you're prudish," she said with a naughty grin.

"I am not!"

"Yes, you are! But it suits you well… and it is sweet," she leaned forward, gently touching her lips to his.

Laurence caught himself tingling all over once again. This was not the spur of the moment kiss she had given him the previous evening, but full of emotions and full of a tentativeness that was far from characteristic of the Roland women.

Yesterday evening he had been merely the receiver of a kiss, too shocked to even react; tonight he was a willing giver. After only a few seconds of their lips moving against each other, it was obvious for him that she had never kissed anyone before, or at least not as deeply as she did him now. But it was exactly the shyness, the almost awkwardness of her kiss that made it so endearing.

Laurence's heart soared – he had never felt anything so pure yet so perfect. And still, he knew he had to break the kiss, fearing that if he did not do it now, he would not be able to stop, and then all his plans for doing things properly with Emily would fall to pieces. He could not afford to make any mistakes with her. And he would not, he swore to himself, pulling back, panting heavily.

"That was… not a bad start… for wooing me," Emily said, her voice coming in gasps. "Are you sure you want to wait… with everything else?"

"I am," Laurence replied, pushing his own physical needs to the background. "Just a little patience, Emily. I will propose to you sooner than you would imagine."

"Oh, indeed? And pray tell, had you gone to Marian tonight, would you have proposed to her too?"

"Not tonight… Only if she got pregnant. _After_ she got pregnant. Not _before_ it."

"But that is not fair towards her… and not very gentlemanly of you, Will Laurence!"

"I know," he gave her a bashful smile. "I did feel quite ashamed of my plans for her… and I am so glad I did not have to follow them through… thanks to Temeraire. I know I should be mad at him for disrespecting my request…"

"Me too," she chuckled.

"…but I simply cannot bring myself to."

"Neither can I."

He lifted her right hand to his lips. "Shall we go and tell him that we are planning to get engaged?"

"Yes, let's," she hopped up from the bed, heading for the door.

"Er… Emily… Are you not planning to put on something… more decent?"

"Oh, I am feeling perfectly decent."

Biting back a remark of disapproval and allowing himself an amused smile instead, Laurence followed her out the door, down the corridor and out into the night.

The stars were already glinting in the sky, the only real source of light a couple of lanterns hung on strings among the trees at the edge of the dragon grounds.

They found Temeraire close to the buildings, curled under a tree in the light circle of a larger lantern. Around him several smaller dragons slept or chewed on the remains of their dinner, one of them having a quiet conversation with his captain, Alexander Jacobs, the man who had been fortunate enough to announce the news of the Waterloo victory.

Temeraire too seemed to be asleep, but upon hearing Laurence and Emily's steps, he raised his head, giving them a curious look.

"I thought you two were busy making an egg," he said, making Captain Jacobs' jaw quite visibly drop. Laurence thought it was due partly to Temeraire's comment, partly to Emily's less than decent attire; but for some reason he felt amused, not ashamed. Aware of the young captain's presence and remembering well enough how Jacobs and his cronies loved to make fun of him, he gave the man an aloof glance, putting an arm around Emily's barely covered shoulder.

"We will be, soon," he replied to Temeraire. "But we would like to do it the proper way. We were wondering if you would not mind us getting married."

"Of course I would not if that makes you happy…" the dragon said a little dubiously. "But to tell you the truth, Laurence, I never understood why you always insist on people getting married when eggs are involved… Not even Harcourt wanted to marry Riley before _you_ talked her into it… And not even Emily's mother married her father…"

"Because she never loved my father, and Catherine wasn't exactly in love with Captain Riley either… for them it was just physical relations," Emily explained, slipping a possessive arm around Laurence's waist and giving the still appalled Jacobs a withering glance. "For Will and me, it is more than that."

"Oh, all right, then, I think I can accept that," Temeraire nodded. "But pray tell, Emily, if you marry my captain, will I have to call you too Laurence? That would be highly confusing…"

"Of course not," she giggled. "You may continue calling me Emily or Roland… but now that you mention it, I think I love the sound of it: Emily Laurence."

"It most definitely has a nice ring to it," Laurence agreed, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Oh for heaven's sake, Jacobs, close your mouth or moths will fly in!"

"Well, perhaps he does have a liking for moths," Temeraire suggested. "Though I do not see why, a roast cow is much more delicious…"

Captain Jacobs, thoroughly routed without even having said a word, turned on his heels and marched off.

"What a coward," Temeraire remarked, following the shape of Jacobs with his eyes until it melted into the darkness. "So, you are not going to visit Digby now, are you, Laurence?"

"God forbid," his captain smirked. "Thank you for saving me from making a serious mistake."

"You are most welcome," the dragon pulled both humans to himself. "Oh, and Laurence, be sure to bring me one of my talon-sheaths first thing in the morning. The smallest one, if you please."

"Why?"

"It is a trade secret," Temeraire replied cryptically.

Laurence decided not to pry further, he was simply too happy to bother with Temeraire's eccentricity tonight. He was soon going to get married – something he had long given up on, and if the Lord was gracious to him and Emily, he would not fail in carrying out Admiral Roland's orders. Had someone ten years earlier told him he would be so willing to carry out an order like that, he would very likely have taken it as a personal insult and challenged the person to a duel, Corps rules be damned.

"Shall we go to sleep?" he offered. "Tomorrow is going to be a tough day for sure… by breakfast everything will be abuzz with gossip about us."

"Do you mind?" Emily slipped her arms around his neck, rubbing the tip of her nose to his.

"No, not really," he said, barely believing his own words, but delighted to find how easy it was to say them. Kissing her lightly on the lips, he added, "Just let them gossip."

oOo

_Covert of Dover, England, 24__th__ August, 1816_

Upon not receiving a reply to his knock, John Granby cautiously opened the door and sidled into Admiral Roland's office, only to find her staring blankly into space.

"Er… excuse me, Admiral, I just wanted to ask… Are you all right?"

She still did not reply, did not even blink.

"Admiral?" he stepped closer, getting worried about her. "Has something happened?"

She finally blinked, but still did not look at him, and continued staring into thin air, but her finger jerkily pointed at something on her desk.

Feeling encouraged to have a look, Granby glanced over her shoulder to see a letter written in a highly familiar, neat hand, dated 3rd March.

_May it please your Ladyship,_

_I am happy to inform your Ladyship that your Ladyship's orders have been successfully carried out – well, at least partly. If the Lord allows, my beautiful wife, Emily, will give birth to our first child in early September. _

_Please be so kind and tell Iskierka that she may have our first as her future captain, however, Temeraire has claim on our second. We have even thought of Excidium: should our third be a girl, she can inherit your dragon after Emily. We are sanguine of managing three at least, after all, your daughter is young and healthy, and thankfully I so far have not had any problems in that respect. Emily even mentioned after our wedding night that she completely understood why you had kept me in your good graces for years. She made me blush. _

_I must admit I have never carried out any order as happily as I did your latest, and I could not possibly be more grateful, for your order has given my life a meaning, given me happiness such as I had never hoped to find again._

_I am aware that you and I have not been on exactly cordial terms for the last nine years, but at least now we can claim to share something: our eternal love for Emily. I hope this will form a bond between us that may lead to mutual understanding._

_Yr obdt Svt,_

_Wm Laurence_

_P.S. May I now call you Mama?_

**FIN**

**A/N:** I am currently working on a new fanfic – an alternate sequel to 'Her Captain' – a story, in which it is not Laurence but Emily who receives the orders to produce an heir. Obviously, Emily gets much more 'screen time' in it than in this one, and Laurence will prove to be a harder nut to crack than Emily was in Consequences of Waterloo. :) It is going to be a longer fic than this one, darker and more dramatic, but it will have its hilarious points too. I will start posting it in a couple of weeks. Hope to see you around for that story as well!

**Until then, please be so kind and leave a final review for this one! :)**


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